


Something Stronger

by Proskenion



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Humor, I tried my best, Post-Canon, Sequel, Swearing, be indulgent, this is just a poor attempt at a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 07:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proskenion/pseuds/Proskenion
Summary: "Gabriel had hirred her to spy on an angel named Aziraphale. Hastur had hirred her to spy on a demon named Crowley. And Aziraphale and Crowley spent a lot of time together."Or just an attempt of imagining what could come next.





	1. Prologue : Or How It All Began

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My Lovely Demonic Angel (hope she recognises herself)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+Lovely+Demonic+Angel+%28hope+she+recognises+herself%29).



> Hello everyone!
> 
> So, this came to my mind after a few silly talk about jogging, Gabriel, our Ineffables Idiots and what could come next. I really hope you'll like it, I personally really enjoyed writing it. It's all quite silly (with a dash of angst) though…

Freya was heading to the nearest park to her flat in greater London in order to jog. She went jogging every morning on her day off. Well, maybe jogging wasn’t exactly what she was doing. She was trotting about. She did it to ease her conscience about all the extra snacks she had treated herself with during the week – not that she felt particularly bad about it, food was one of the simplest earthly pleasures, after all. 

Freya was not what you could call tall, though she was not small either. She had very straight ginger hair that was extremely and annoyingly responsive to static electricity. The features of her face were all incredibly symmetrical, to the point it almost felt wrong and slightly disturbing. Right in the middle of this incredibly symmetrical face was a rather large and very long nose.* One could say it was way too big for her round face, but it actually made the whole look quite interesting.

Freya’s full name was Freya Antigone Doisy-Fauvelet-de-Lapoyade. Her surname was, as you could probably tell, of French origine. It once belonged to a French aristocrate who thought that swimming to the other side of the Channel was the best thing to do to escape the French Revolution – and he had actually been right. The result was that hundreds of years later, his descendants were still carrying his ridiculously long name though no one in Great Brittain was able to pronouce it correctly – not even Freya. As for her first and second name, they had been one of her parents’ brilliant ideas. They had met in Cambridge while Freya’s mother was doing a PhD on Norse Mythology and Freya’s father was doing a PhD on Greek Mythology. They had thought it funny to name their daughter after two women from both myths.** 

So, Freya was now not-so-much-jogging-but-rather-trotting-about in the same usual park, her mind vaguely wandering around thoughts of what she would have for lunch when she go back home, when suddenly a man was running next to her. She started, surprised, but kept trotting. 

‘Hello,’ said the man warmly.

‘Do I know you ?’ Freya asked suspiciously. 

‘You probably do, yes, I’m quite well-known down there,’ answered the man with a satisfied smile. 

Freya looked at him, trying to figure out if she had seen him on television or something, but his face didn’t ring any bell. She decided not to tell him, though, because he looked very proud of himself. Instead, she reached for her bunch of keys in her pocket, carefully placing each of the keys between her fingers to make a sort of knuckle-duster. 

‘So,’ the man said, ‘Freya, isn’t it ? I have an important message for you.’

This time Freya stopped, looking at the man very distrustfully, while he stopped to face her with a wide smile. ‘How do you know my name ?’ she asked. ‘Who are you ?’

‘Oh, yes, of course, introductions, what was I thinking,’ the man said with a laugh. ‘I’m Archangel Gabriel. Lovely to meet you.’ 

Freya was now completely convinced the man was a lunatic, and she clenched harder on her keys. The man kept talking :

‘So, Freya, I’ve been sent here to, let’s say, offer you a job. A good job, with many advantages. A good place in Heaven after you die, for a start.’ 

Freya considered punching the man in the face and running away, though something kept her completely frozen and bewildered. She also knew she wouldn’t be able to run very fast. 

‘I really think you should consider it,’ Gabriel said with a warm smile and an encouraging nod. ‘The whole angelic, heavenly business is very favourable. Here, take my card.’ He handed a white little card that Freya hadn’t seen him taking out of any pockets. She took it suspisciously, somehow apprehensively. On it was written in golden letters :

ARCHANGEL GABRIEL – ANGEL RECRUITMENT Ltd. – HIRING TO GIVE A HAND AND SAVE SOULS SINCE 4004 BC.

Freya looked up from the card. The man was gone.

She wondered if the mushrooms she had for breakfast really were simple, harmless ones.

#

After lunch, Freya had escaped London to the country side. She would do so every time after lunch on her day-off.

Freya was working as a secretary in a dentistry surgery. She didn’t particularly liked it though she didn’t mind it that much either. And one has to pay the bills, right ? She was happy to go out of town on her day-off, though.

Freya loved Oxfordshire. She had an old aunt in Lower Tadfiel that she would visit once a month. Freya didn’t really like her, she actually found the old lady very unpleasant and nasty – and she was. But Freya felt compelled by some sort of family duty to pay her a visit regurlarly. 

This day Freya didn’t go to see Auntie Phelomena, though. Instead she drove until she found a nice spot where to relax and read on her own, with a very delicious snack composed of brownies and rapsberry, and a full Thermos of coffee. 

She read and ate and read again, until the sun started to come down. On her way back to her car, she spotted a couple seemingly returning from a pic-nic.*** 

Freya got in her car, put her bag on the passenger seat, and put one of her Best of Queen CD in the player before starting the car. She would never drive without listening to one of her Best of Queen albums – actually, as far as she was concern, driving without listening to Queen was illegal. 

_Don’t stop me now, ‘cause I’m having a good time, having a good ‘HELLO FREYA.’_

Freya almost came off the road, nearly hitting a hedgehog in the process - hedgehog which was now cursing at her angrily and complaining about the complete lack of manner and consideration the humans were always guilty of. 

Freya glared at the radio but for a moment, only Freddie Mercury’s voice was heard.

_Defying the laws of the gravity, I’m a racing car passing by ‘I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME FREYA.’_

‘What the hell,’ Freya mumbled, staring at her radio and instinctively slowing the car.

 _‘IF ONLY YOU KNEW HOW RIGHT YOU ARE, FREYA.’_

Freya swallowed. With a small voice she tried to keep steady, she asked ‘who’s there ?’

_‘HASTUR, DUKE OF HELL. I HAVE AN OFFER FOR YOU, FREYA.’_

‘What on earth do you want ?’ Freya asked, starting to feel more annoyed that scared. Truly, this day was starting to be very, upsettingly odd. 

_‘I TOLD YOU, FREYA. I HAVE AN OFFER FOR YOU. A JOB. A GOOD JOB.’_

‘Oh, and I suppose you’ll promise me a lovely room in Hell after I die ?’ Freya said sarcastically. She got no answer to that. 

_‘YOU SHOULD CONSIDER IT, FREYA. YOU REALLY SHOULD CONSIDER IT VERY CAREFULLY. I’LL COME BACK TO YOU TO TAKE YOUR ANSWER, FREYA. THINK ABOUT IT.’_

Then Freya heard a very strong static sound and Freddie Mercury started singing again.

_I’m burning through the sky yeaaaah two hundred degrees that’s why they call me Mister Fahrenheit…._

Freya reached out for her Thermos. It was empty.

##

* Freya’s nose has been subjeted to a lot of childish, deeply unkind mockery. During Freya’s first day in Secondary School, Lucinda Lloyd had made fun of her nose, to which Freya had answered with a very well aimed punch. This had owed her four hours of detention, and the exquisite satisfaction to know that Lucinda’s nose would never be the same ever again.

** Later on, they had come to the conclusion that both Greek and Norse mythologies weren’t interesting enough anymore, and after Freya’s 18th birthday they had left London for good to become Tibetan monks, living Freya behind with all their respective savings, which wasn’t much actually. 

*** They were actually Anathema and Newton Pulsifer, whom Freya didn’t know yet but would definitely meet later, though obviously she did not know that at this point.


	2. Chapter 1

Freya were slowly getting up the stairs to her flat. After a long day at work, she only wished to go home. There was a lift in the building but it was out of order, so Freya had to walk the seven floors up to her flat. She angrily wondered why lifts were always out of order – it seems to her that it was an inherent disposition to all lifts she knew. 

When she finally reached her door, she stumbled inside the flat, throwing her bag on the floor, taking off her shoes, and locking the door behind her. Her flat was very small and looked a bit like what Aladdin’s Cave would have looked like if it has been occupied by a teenager in the 70s. The only small shelves of the flat has been filled long ago, so books had started to pile up everywhere in the flat. She also had a pile of old vinyl records she would listen on her old hi-fi. She was particularly proud of it. She only listened to old time rock’n’roll and baroque music. Everything else was bullocks, according to Freya. 

‘Hello, Armaggedon,’ she said while walking into the flat, ‘hello, Neville !’

Armageddon was her goldfish. She had thought it very funny to give such a terrifying name to a very small, harmless creature such as a goldfish. Neville was her cactus.* The both of them were the only living beings Freya had never been disappointed in, and she laid the most of her affection on them. Neville and Armageddon quite naturally returned the sentiment.

‘How was your day ?’ she asked, heading to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. It would be her fifteenth coffee today. She sometimes thought she should slow down a bit, but found everyday that she didn’t really want to. ‘My day was terrible, if you’re interested. Well, as terrible as any work day, at least.’

She sipped a bit of coffee and opened the fridge to grab the rest of a salad she had left for dinner. She kept talking to Armaggedon and Neville while eating. She told the goldfish and the cactus all about her day, complaining about some clients and complaining even more about her bosses. ‘Dentists,’ she groaled, ‘pretentious liars, all of them.’ If Neville and Armageddon could speak, Neville would probably tell her to pull herself together, while Amageddon would start babbling about the fantastic day he had swimming around his tank fighting pirates, mermaids and krakens – the goldfish had a very bright imagination.** 

She had something else on her mind, though. The week was almost done, and she knew that she’ll have to make her reports soon enough. Not to the dentistry surgery, no. To… her other bosses. The thought of them made her shiver.

Hastur was creepy. With his black eyes, white skin, and this stupid toad on his head. And his laugh, brrr. He was a Duke of Hell, though, so you could expect him to be creepy. Gabriel was creepier, actually. Always smiling, though his smile felt forced and cold. And Freya had never met a more passive-aggressive angel in her life. Not that she knew many angels, though. 

She knew at least one more. Well, knew wasn’t the exact word. She had seen at least one more. That was part of her job, not the job at the dentistery surgery, the one she did for Hastur and Gabriel. She has wondered if the two of them worked together, but she had never dared to ask. And she must admit that Heaven and Hell working together sounded a bit unreasonable. 

Gabriel had hirred her to spy on an angel named Aziraphale. Hastur had hirred her to spy on a demon named Crowley. And Aziraphale and Crowley spent a lot of time together.  
She hadn’t done this spying business for long. She didn’t know why she had accepted. Maybe because of the creepiness of her two new bosses and her incapacity to actually refuse. Or maybe because she was bored and thought this could be an opportunity to make her life a little bit more exciting. Anyway, she had said yes now and neither Gabriel nor Hastur looked prone to, let’s say, interrupt her contract. 

Freya made herself a hot chocolate and went to pick a book somewhere in the flat. If there was one beverage that was more precious than her sacrosanct daily dose of caffeine, it was her night time cocoa she would inevitably savour every night with a good book. Life’s greatest pleasures are always the simplest. 

She went a bit late to sleep that night. Actually she often went to sleep late. She was that kind of person who doesn’t sleep much and then drink a lot of coffee during the day to keep herself awake, and then couldn’t sleep much because she had drunken too much coffee. She wouldn’t really admit it, though. Lying in bed, eyes fixed on her ceiling, she wondered what she would tell Gabriel and Hastur this time. Nothing, absolutely nothing excited or interesting had happened. Aziraphale and Crowley always had the same routine and Freya would inevitably make the same reports to her two supernatural bosses. 

As always, the morning of her day-off this week, she went jogging. And as always for the past weeks, Gabriel unexpectingly materialised himself next to her. She jumped. She definitely didn’t get used to it. 

‘Good morning, Freya,’ said Gabriel with this deeply annoying smile of his. 

‘Hey,’ she sighed, her face a bit red by the effort of running. 

‘I bet you had a wonderful week,’ Gabriel said encouragingly. ‘I hope so anyway.’ 

Freya repressed an urge to roll up her eyes. What a phoney. 

‘So, Freya, what do you have to tell me ?’ 

Freya glanced at him. If only she could wipe away that smile… Well, maybe what she actually had to say will be enough to wipe it away, after all.

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I mean, just the usual. Aziraphale spends most of his time in his bookshop or having lunch with this Crowley. That’s it.’

‘Hmm. Haven’t you heard anything ?’ Gabriel asked hopefully.

‘No,’ Freya answered.

Gabriel stayed quiet for a while. Freya glanced at him again. The smile was gone indeed, and now she was wondering if it was really a good thing. But the smile came back again, in an even more annoying way. 

‘Freya, hmm, listen,’ Gabriel said, ‘you’re doing an amazing job, you truly are. Congratulations.’ Freya glanced at him suspiscioulsy. She knew bosses, and she knew that tone. That was the sort of sentences that came with a but. And indeed, Gabriel went on, ‘But I think you could do better. Don’t have me wrong, you’re brilliant. You just can be even better than that.’ He smiled widely.

‘What do you want me to do ?’

‘Go in the bookshop. Talk to him, befriend him. That shouldn’t be very hard, even for someone like you.’ Freya felt quite offended by this remark and pinched her lips, trying hard not to answer back. ‘That won’t be difficult,’ Gabriel resumed, ‘Aziraphale is quite easy to fool.’ 

Freya gave him a forced, extremely cold smile. Gabriel laughed, and declared, patting her back in a way he certainly wanted friendly and encouraging :

‘You’ll be fantastic, as always ! I’m very happy with you, Freya.’

Freya smiled again, or more exactly grimaced, and mumbled a ‘thanks’, but Gabriel was already gone. She glared at the sky angrily. 

While lunching she wondered if she should go to the bookshop in the afternoon. Actually, she went inside once, she couldn’t resist. She loved books, after all. But she had run away the moment Aziraphale had come to ask her if he could be of any help. 

She finally decided that she wouldn’t sacrifice her usual day-off routine, even for Heaven’s sake. So she took a packet of biscuits, filled her Thermos with coffee, grabbed a book, shove it all in her bag, and went out. Two hours and a half later, she was having the best time reading alone in the middle of an Oxfordshire field while eating biscuits and drinking coffee. 

On her way back home, she was halfway through Hammer to Fall when an interference followed by a rather macabre voice interrupted the song. 

_‘FREYA’_ , said Hastur through the radio. 

‘Your Lordship,’ Freya answered quite sarcastically, though she hoped Hastur wouldn’t notice. 

_‘WHAT NEWS DO YOU HAVE FOR ME, FREYA ?’_

‘Not much I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘Crowley spends a lot of time strolling in the city, but really he does nothing interesting. He loves driving that car of his, I think. He met Aziraphale twice at St James’s Park this week. Fed the ducks. Talked about macarons, I believe.’

For a brief moment there was only silence. Then Hastur’s voices said :

_‘THIS IS NOT ENOUGH, FREYA. YOU MUST TRY HARDER.’_

She rolled her eyes. ‘What do you want me to do exactly ?’

 _‘GO TALK TO CROWLEY. AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, MAKE HIM TALK TO YOU. SEDUCE HIM, IF YOU LIKE, DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, I DON’T CARE. JUST MAKE HIM TALK.’_

Then Freya heard another interference and Freddie Mercury started singing again. She sighed.

‘Seduce him,’ she muttered, ‘eew, no thanks.’

That wasn’t particularly directed against Crowley. Actually, she even thought of Crowley as a perfectly acceptably good-looking man. Freya just wasn’t interested in seducing anyone. She wasn’t interested in it at all. 

When she came home she dropped her bag on the floor and collapsed on her sofa. She let out a frustrated moan. She wondered how she would manage to do what was required of her. That wasn’t exactly her scene. Socialising. Her best friends were a cactus and a goldfish, after all. 

‘What am I to do ?’ she asked Neville and Armageddon. 

Neville wanted to tell her she brought it upon herself without anyone else’s help. Armageddon was too busy rambling about octopuses in spacesuits going on vacation on Alpha Centuri to pay any attention to her whatsoever. 

She fell asleep on her sofa.

##

* She had named him after her favourite character in the Harry Potter books series, as well as after her first and last crush, Neville Appleby, who has been her biology teacher in High School. She wouldn’t admit it if you asked her, though, and would simply tell you that Neville was a perfectly sensible name for a cactus.

** It is commonly accepted that goldfish are stupid and have a very short memory. This is entirely incorrect. Most goldfishes have a very reasonable intellect, even more of them have a very good memory, and they absolutely all are extremely creative. They just aren’t very good listeners. If you don’t believe me, ask the next goldfish you’ll meet, and you’ll see what they tell you – if they actually listen to you.


	3. Chapter 2

Freya was lurking near the bookshop, trying to find in her the courage to simply push the door and go inside. Then she would still have to engage a conversation with the owner, but that was a problem she would have to face only if she managed to come in. 

After passing over and over again by the bookshop entrance for at least a quarter of an hour, she eventually got in. The bookshop looked empty – empty of people at least. Freya looked around at all the old books with sparkles in her eyes, and for one tiny moment she relaxed a bit. She walked in, without taking her eyes off of the shelves.

‘Can I help ?’ asked a voice behind her. She started badly. A hand on her chest, she turned to face the owner of the voice, and find herself face to face with Aziraphale. ‘Oh dear,’ the angel said, ‘did I give you a fright ? I’m so terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to.’

Freya stared at him for a while, her mouth opening and closing in a similar way that a dying carp would. She knew she was supposed to say something, but she found herself unable to utter a sound. At least, not a coherent one. 

‘Are you alright, my dear ?’ Aziraphale asked with concern. 

‘Er… yes,’ Freya eventually managed to say. ‘Yes. Sorry.’ 

‘Good, then. Now, what can I do for you ? I’m afraid we’re about to close.’

‘That’s a nice bookshop you have here,’ Freya said, or let’s say, pronounced quickly, souding like a rasping sub-machine gun. 

‘Oh, thank you,’ Aziraphale said, visibly pleased. 

‘I love books,’ Freya let out, perfectly aware of being awkward but not being able to do anything about it. 

‘So do I, my dear, so do I,’ Aziraphale answered with a smile, the kind of smile you would give to someone with whom you need to be very calm, and very patient. ‘Now, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave, please, if you would be so kind. We’re about to close.’ He accompanied this by a polite gesture, and taking Freya by the arm, as delicately as if she was made of porcelain, he gently guided her to the door. ‘Now,’ he resumed, ‘have a very lovely evening, my dear. Take care.’

‘Yes, sure, er, thanks, you too, er,’ Freya mumbled, but Aziraphale had already closed the door behind her and turned the sign on it’s closed position. 

‘Shit, _shit shit shit shit shit_ ,’ Freya cursed. Good lord, this went really badly. 

The day after she went to the bookshop again. Aziraphale recognised her but didn’t say anything. Freya tried to talk about the books again, desperately trying to find interesting things to say, but failed miserably. So she asked if she could possibly find a copy of Umberto Ecco’s The Name of the Rose, to what Aziraphale answered that no, unfortunately, he had run out of stock. Freya had left the shop sheepishly. 

Two days after that she went back for a third time. She told herself that this time, she wouldn’t go out without having a proper conversation with the angel. 

‘Oh, you again,’ Aziraphale said when he saw her coming in. ‘Dear, it seems you really love my shop.’

‘Er… Well, yes, I do,’ Freya stuttered. ‘I… Yes. Very nice, little, nice… bookshop. I love books.’

‘Yes, you told me that already,’ Aziraphale said with a polite, encouraging smile. Freya smiled back, and felt that if she didn’t act promptly, an awkward silence would fall. She didn’t act promptly. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat, smiled again, and said, offering his hand : ‘My name is Aziraphale.’ Freya shook his hand, slowly. ‘Pardon me, and you are ?’ Aziraphale added encouragingly. 

‘Freya. I’m Freya.’

‘Freya. What a lovely name. I’m delighted to make your aquaintance, Freya who loves books.’ 

‘Yeah, same,’ Freya answered. She shook her head. ‘Excuse me, I’m just… I’m not very good at talking with… other people. It’s quite… I… Sorry.’

‘It’s alright, my dear. Take your time. You know what, what about I leave you alone for a while, just have a look around, and you give me a shout if you need me ? Is that alright ? Fantastic, jolly good !’ And upon this words, Aziraphale gave Freya a very warm smile that came with a small, gentle chuckle, and then he went away.

‘Wait !’ Freya called back. 

‘Hmm ?’ 

‘Actually, I… I think I’d just like to have a chat, really. Sorry, it’s… Oh, dear,’ she sighed eventually. 

Aziraphale looked at her intensely, slightly suspiscious. ‘Oh, er, alright,’ he said, ‘Let’s… let’s have a chat, then, I guess.’ 

Freya took a huge breath in. Then she talked. ‘I really like your bookshop. It’s… It’s lovely. Peaceful. I… Maybe… Do you have any book recommandation ?’

This time, it was Aziraphale’s turn to stutter. ‘Books… Books recommandation ?’ he asked, voice unsteady.

‘Yes. Well, not that I want to buy anything, I mean, your books are old and probably very expensive, though of course if you’d like me to buy something then I could…’

‘Very expensive, yes,’ the angel interrupted. ‘Very, extremely expensive.’

‘Right,’ Freya muttered, vaguely wondering where all this was going. ‘But you can still show me books you like ? I mean, just… Just to satisfy my curiosity ?’

‘Well… Yes, I suppose I could do that.’

‘Good. Good, good, good, good.’ 

‘Er… Well, after you,’ Aziraphale said with a polite nod and indicating the way. 

Freya followed the angel inside the shop. She still felt a bit awkward, but soon enough her love for books took over, and after half an hour, the two of them were chating excitedly about literature and the ineffable pleasure of reading. Aziraphale was full of anecdotes, and Freya had very pertinent remarks to make about a classics or two. At some point the door opened, and Aziraphale had to go see who it was. Freya heard him say :

‘I’m afraid not, I don’t sell this kind of books. Now, please, I’m actually closed.’

When he came back to her, she looked at him with a crook smile. ‘What ?’ he asked genuinely. 

‘Do you always send people away by telling them you're closed ?’

‘Well…’

‘I mean, it doesn’t look like you’re trying very hard to sell anything.’

‘Actually, that is…’

‘You look more like a collector than a bookseller to me.’ 

‘Well,’ Aziraphale answered with a chuckle, ‘I think you’ve uncovered me.’ 

Aziraphale looked quite embarrassed. Freya smiled kindly. ‘I get it,’ she said. ‘If I had such marvellous books in my bookshop, I wouldn’t want to sell them at all.’ 

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale exhaled with a smile. ‘Thank you.’ 

Freya smiled, looking at her feet, feeling slightly awkward again. ‘I think I should go,’ she mumbled. ‘I think I heard you say you’re closed.’

‘Yes, well, as you guessed, that was just to get rid of this… inconvenience.’

‘Well, I still think I should go, it’s running late.’ 

The two of them stared at each other for a while. Then Freya offered her hand to him. ‘It was nice meeting you,’ she said. 

‘And you,’ Aziraphale replied with a smile, shaking her hand. 

Freya adverted her gaze and went to the door. She turned before leaving for good, whispering a ‘see you’ then disappeared through the door. 

She came back the day after, and the day after. Then, it was her day-off. But for the first time since the beginning of her invariable routine, she decided not to go out of town to read a good book. Instead, she went to the bookshop again. 

She realised on her way that she had been so absorbed in befriending Aziraphale and enjoying herself at the bookshop that she had completely forgotten about Crowley. She had to do something, or Hastur wouldn't be pleased. 

And as if she just needed to wish it for it to happen, when she entered the bookshop, instead of the beaming face of the angel, she find herself face to face with Crowley. She had never been so close to him before and her jaw dropped. 

‘We’re closed !’ Aziraphale chanted from somewhere in the shop, reacting to the bell at the door. Then, about half a minute later, he appeared next to Crowley. ‘Oh, Freya dear, it’s you !’ he exclaimed warmly. ‘Crowley, this is the young girl I was telling you about. Freya, meet my dear friend Crowley.’

‘Pleasure,’ the demon mumbled, vaguely nodding. 

‘Hmm, yep, delighted,’ Freya said. ‘Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I… I’ll just…’

‘Don’t be silly my dear, you’re not intruding at all,’ the angel exclaimed. The expression on Crowley’s face clearly showed that the demon thought otherwise. ‘Actually, we were heading for lunch, maybe you would like to come with us ?’

Crowley turned his face slowly to Aziraphale but didn’t say anything. Freya opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. She was about to say that she actually just had lunch, but then a little voice in the back of her head told her that it was an unexpected opportunity to get to know Crowley better. So she said : ‘Yes, sure, if it’s not a problem of course.’  
‘Nonsense !’ Aziraphale said on a high pitch tone. ‘Of course it’s not a problem, is it Crowley ?’

‘Er, yeah, er, I mean, no, no of course,’ the demon mumbled. 

‘Jolly good !’ Aziraphale exclaimed, clapping his hands together. ‘Let us go, then !’

Only ten minutes later, they were sitting down at a table in a very posh restaurant. They had gotten there in exactly 8 minutes and 47 seconds, thanks to the very fast and precise driving of Crowley. Sitting on the back, Freya had felt exactly the same way she had felt the last time she went for a rollercoaster ride.*

Freya definitely felt like the third wheel – at least at the beginning. She was awkwardly embarrassed, and did not know what to say. So she just listened to the other two, only speaking when talked to. Crowley asked a lot of questions, going from what she was doing in life to how she had met Aziraphale. 

When it was time for the desert, the tension was all gone. The three of them actually had a lot in common. Freya was delighted to learn they were both music lovers – Aziraphale’s knowledge in the area seemed to have stopped at the beginning of the twentieth century, but that was ok for Freya who was an old time fan of baroque music. 

Then Crowley drove Aziraphale back to the bookshop and offered Freya a lift home. She instinctively turned on the radio and laughed with pleasure when she heard Queen singing in the speaker of the old Bentley. 

Freya felt definitely and completely blessed when, entering her residence doorway, she noticed the lift was working. She stepped inside, pressed the seventh floor botton, and turned around. 

She jumped out of her skin.

‘Blimey !’ she shrieked. ‘Do you really have to do that ?’

‘Do what ?’ asked Gabriel, unaware of the fright he just gave her. ‘Anyway, we don’t have much time. How is it going ?’

Freya stared at him. For one split second, she seriously considered punching him in the face. Instead, she said :

‘Good, actually. Making friend with Aziraphale wasn’t that hard, after all.’ 

‘Brilliant,’ Gabriel replied with his usual highly irritating smile. ‘Heard anything interesting ?’

‘No,’ Freya said quite coldly, ‘unless you're interested in saucy stories about Lord Byron.’ 

‘Er, no, thank you, I’m afraid I’m not. Well, good job, Freya. Keep going !’ Gabriel said and he encouragingly – or at least what he tried to make feel as encouraging – punched her shoulder. 

Then the lift arrived at the seventh floor and Gabriel was gone. 

Freya rolled her eyes and get out. She walked to her appartement, and stopped when she noticed a figure waiting for her near her door. Well, the day had been so good, of course there would be something to spoil it.

‘Duke Hastur,’ she said when arriving near him. ‘What an honour.’ 

‘Have you spoken to Crowley ?’ Hastur asked. 

‘Good evening to you too,’ she answered. ‘I have, yes. Spent the whole afternoon with him.’ 

‘And ?’

‘And… Well, that’s it. Nice chap. Great music tastes.’ 

‘Don’t you have anything more… More pertinent ?’

‘I’m afraid not, I’m…’ Freya mumbled, aware of the cold tension between them. ‘I’m gonna need more time, I…’

‘This is not enough, Freya,’ Hastur groaned. Then he walked past her and disppeared inside the lift. Freya swallowed. She opened the door and rushed inside, making sure to lock the door behind her. 

The day after, she went to St James’s Park, hoping to find Crowley and Aziraphale there. When she did, she pretended to run into them completely by chance. They had lunch together again. 

A day later she came into the bookshop with a backpack full of books. She offered Aziraphale to borrow some of his books and leave those to him in exchange. ‘Dead writers are perfectly fine,’ she told him, ‘but some of the living ones are more than ok, too.’ Aziraphale accepted. 

On her next day-off Crowley offered to drive the three of them to the sea. Aziraphale sat in the back, visibly terrified of the speed, while Freya and Crowley were singing Radio Gaga and other Queen's songs excitedly.

It went on like that for a while. Freya saw them everytime she could, reporting her meetings with them weekly to Hastur and Gabriel. Neither of them seemed fully satisfied with her reports, but she couldn’t invent things just to please them, could she ? After a while, she started to feel worried, though, and slightly ashamed too. The thing was, she really got along with Aziraphale and Crowley, and the more she knew them the more she was getting genuinely attached to them. She was feeling more and more uncomfortable about lying to them – well, not lying, hiding things to them. Things like the fact she was actually spying on them on behalf of Heaven and Hell. She also wondered how long it would take to Gabriel and Hastur to ask more from her.

One night, she invited Aziraphale and Crowley at her place after dinner. They arrived with two bottle of French red wine. As soon as he got in the flat, Aziraphale stopped and looked at all the books in amazement. 

‘You should open them and let them decant,’ suggested Crowley about the wine bottles. 

Freya went to the kitchen and did as she was told. She heard Aziraphale say something about mishandling books by piling them on the floor instead of putting them on shelves. She laughed, but apologised, pointing out that the flat was rather small. Then she asked, ‘while the wine is decanting, what can I get you ? Tea, coffe ? Beer ?’

‘Beer,’ Crowley replied.

‘Tea for me, please,’ said Aziraphale. 

‘Oh, a cactus !’ Crowley exclaimed. ‘Looks good. Do you talk to it ?’

‘Yes, everyday,’ Freya said, coming back from the kitchen with the drinks.

‘I talk to my plants to,’ Crowley hissed with a wicked smiled, taking the beer from Freya’s hand. 

‘His name’s Neville.’ Freya said, friendly poking the cactus. 

‘Sorry, what ?’ Crowley blurted. ‘You named it Neville ? Why ?’

Freya shrugged. ‘I don’t know, felt like a very sensible name for a cactus.’ Then she turned to her goldfish’s tank and proudly anounced : ‘And this is Armageddon.’  
‘Arma… You’re really great at naming things,’ Crowley said, amused. Freya smiled widely. 

Freya had baked an assortment of various biscuits and cupcakes that went perfectly well with the delicious French wine. When they finished the first bottle, Freya suggested a game. Surprisingly, it took more effort to convince Crowley than Aziraphale. They started with mimes, then went for a blind test – Aziraphale was terrible at it and started to sulk – but the funniest part was when Freya took out an old board game she had kept from childhood, involving a lot of games of skill and stupid dares.

Freya felt a strange, warm feeling in her chest, and she realised she hadn’t be happy like that in a long, long time. From his tank, Armageddon was having a pretty good time as well, for once focused on what was happening in the room and cheering everyone up. As for Neville, he had no remarks to make that night, and if cacti could smile, he would have displayed the warmest smile in his possession. 

Freya was happy. And for a night – a good, friendly night – she almost forgot about Hastur and Gabriel completely.

##

* It was for her tenth birthday, her parents had decided to take her to a funfair – it was their first and last time, to the great displeasure of Freya who had enjoyed herself very much. 


	4. Chapter 3

‘Hello auntie, it’s me !’ 

Freya opened the door of her aunt Philomena’s cottage and came in, carrying a full shopping bag and a pack of water bottles. She had the habit of doing some grocery for her aunt before coming. She went into the kitchen, left the water near the entrance and put the shopping bag on the table. 

‘Freya, is that you ?’ a voice called from the living-room. 

‘Who else,’ Freya mumbled. Then, louder, ‘yes, auntie, it’s me !’ 

‘I was starting to think you would never come to see me again !’ Philomena answered sharply. 

‘Yeah, nice to see you too,’ Freya mumbled again, taking a box out of the shopping bag and going to the living-room. 

‘There you are,’ Philomena snarled. The old lady was sitting on a beautiful armchair, a magazine on her lap. She didn’t move when Freya came in. 

‘About time !’ she barked. ‘What’s in that box ?’ 

‘I made you waffles.’

‘Waffles ? Taking care of my diabetes, eh ?’

‘Auntie, you don’t have diabetes,’ Freya said, trying to sound less annoyed than she was. She put the boxes on the coffee table.

‘Well, you’re working hard on changing that !’ Philomena replied, bending over to grab a waffle. Freya sat on the sofa opposite to her aunt, watching her as she devoured the waffle.  
‘So, how have you been ?’ Freya asked. 

This, Freya knew, was both a blessed and cursed question. Blessed, because it meant an endless answer from auntie Philomena, meaning Freya wouldn’t have to talk for a while. Cursed, because it meant listening to the old lady complaining about everything and everyone. According to her, everything in her life was going down the drain. However, though she wouldn’t admit it, her life was actually quite comfortable and she had a close to perfect health.*

Half-way through her aunt’s rambling, Freya glanced at the clock. Ten minutes. She had only been here for ten minutes. Alright, just another fifty…

When Philomena finished talking – having eating a whole bunch of waffles in the process – Freya announced she should go and put away the shopping. Philomena followed in the kitchen, and gave Freya instructions on how and where to put everything, while very noisily chewing another waffle. Freya had to focus hard on her breathing not to say anything rude. 

Outside, children’s laugh followed by a dog’s bark were heard, as well as the gleeful ding-ding of a bicycle. A moment later, Freya could see through the window as Adam Young and his friends passed rapidly on their bikes, Dog running after them. 

‘Oh and what about those yobbos, riding their bikes and causing only trouble !’ Philomena grumbled.

‘They’re children, auntie,’ Freya said, rolling up her eyes, ‘what do you expect them to do ? They’re just having fun.’

‘Having fun, my foot ! They’re up to no good, I’m telling you !’

Once the kitchen were all tidy, Freya looked at the clock again and felt more than releaved to see she had been there a bit more than thirty minutes now. In half an hour, she would be free to go without looking rude. 

She put the kettle on to make some tea, and asked her aunt about her last read. That was an area they could both find common agreement. Actually, when she was a child, even though Philomena quite intimidated her, she always felt quite excited to go there because it meant she would go away with a new book to read.

#

Freya was heading to her car when she met the Them. She liked those kids. Contrarily to what most people in Tadfiel were saying, she found them very nice and polite – they just asked to be respected in return, which seemed perfectly sensible to Freya. And most importantly, they had never make her feel unwanted, which wasn’t the case of most people in her life.** The Them were always ready to welcome her and tell her about their games – and they had a beautiful imagination.

‘Hey guys !’ Freya greeted them. ‘What are you up to ?’

‘We’re smuggling,’ Adam explained. 

‘Oh, wow. Smugling what ?’ Freya asked.

‘Things,’ Adam answered. ‘Lots of things.’

‘But we can’t say,’ Pepper added.

‘It’s a secret,’ Adam explain, very serious.

‘Of course,’ Freya answered with a smile. ‘You wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong ears, would you ?’ 

‘Exactly,’ Adam replied, smiling. 

‘Adam,’ Freya said, ‘you still haven’t lend me a copy of your book. I’m getting rather impatient.’

‘Oh, that’s true,’ the boy said. ‘Sorry, I’ll get one ready for you when you come back, Freya.’

‘Thanks. I can’t wait. Well, good luck with the smugling !’ Freya waved at them as they were already riding away from her, a wide smile on her lips.

She really liked those kids.

#

The rain had started just after Freya had left Tadfiel. She was lucky. She was driving, absently listening to _Killer Queen_ , when she saw a couple hurrying on the side of the road, unprotected of the rain. She went past them. Then, feeling a bit guilty of leaving them like that, she stopped the car and reversed. She stopped next to them and oppened her window, ‘need a lift ?’ she asked.

‘Oh, that would be so kind, thanks,’ said the young woman. She got in the front of the car while her male companion get in the back. ‘Hello, my name is Anathema, and this is Newt.’

‘Hi,’ said Newt, waving.

‘Freya. Nice to meet you.’

‘Likewise. And thank you very much.’

‘Where should I drop you ?’ asked Freya.

‘Jasmine Cottage, please.’ 

Oh, so they were the new comers. Well, new comers wasn't exactly true still, since they had moved in Tadfield months ago. Philomena had a lot to say about them – but Philomena had a lot to say about everyone, and Freya had learned not to believe in everything her aunt was saying, so she didn't make any comment. She nodded and started the car again. 

After that, the conversation died. Freya felt awkward again. Why was it so hard to communicate with human beings sometimes ? She wasn’t shy. She was just… awkward around people. With Hastur and Gabriel, she didn’t really had that problem, because their relationships had immediately been established as somewhat professional. She was used to that. But socialising, meeting new people… That was odd.

She turned the volume of the radio up. 

_BYCICLE, BYCICLE, BYCYCLE I wanna ride my BYCICLE…_

‘Damn, seriously ?’ Anathema said with a smirk.

‘What ? Don’t you like it ?’ Freya asked, worried.

‘No, it’s just… The last time some strangers gave me a lift home, we listened to the exact same song.’

‘Oh,’ said Freya, not knowing what to say.

‘They were in that vintage car, think they were together or something. Very strange couple.’

Freya rose an eyebrow. ‘Aren’t their names Crowley and Aziraphale ?’ she asked.

‘Might be,’ Anathema said pensively.

‘A tall thin one, always wearing sunglasses,’ Freya described, ‘and…’

‘A chubby one, very sophisticated ?’ Anathema completed.

‘Yes. That’s them,’ Freya confirmed, smiling. ‘Funny.’

‘You know them, then ?’

‘Yes, I do, they’re good friends actually.’

‘Small world,’ Newt commented. 

They soon arrived at Jasmine Cottage. Anathema and Newt thanked Freya again. She said it wasn’t a problem. 

‘See you again, probably,’ she said. ‘I come here often.’ 

‘Yeah, see you,’ they answered, waving.

#

'What do you mean?' Freya asked, sipping her tea - Aziraphale didn't drink coffee and never thought of bying some, to Freya's despair. She was in the angel's back shop and they were talking about books - about Nick Cave's _And The Ass Saw The Angel_ , to be exactly precise. Vivaldi's _Stabbat Matter_ was playing in the back ground.

'Well, I mean,' Aziraphale said pensively, 'I mean, there's something about the style of course, but the narrative gets slightly confusing, don't you think?'

'Nope. I think it's a poetic masterpiece.' 

'It is all so bleak,' Aziraphale protested. 'And I'm not sure about all this religious imagery...' 

'You're too classic,' Freya said, finishing her tea and putting her cup away. 

'Well, I take that as a compliment, my dear. More tea?' 

'No, thank you.' 

For a while none of them talked, and they listened to Vivaldi in mutual contentment. Then Aziraphale said: 

'Oh, I absolutely loved that other one, though, what's it called? The Colour of Magic?' 

'Oh, the Terry Pratchett’s one!' 

'Yes, exactly. Very witty. Funny, I must say.' 

The main door of the shop opened, making the bell ring in a jolly ding-dong. Crowley's voice rose from afar. 

'Angel! You there?' 

'In the back, my dear!' Aziraphale called back.

A few foot steps were heard and Crowley appeared. 'Oh, hello,' he said when seeing Freya. 

'Hey.' 

'I was hoping to take you somewhere to eat,' Crowley declared. 'Fancy a Chinese, guys?' 

Aziraphale and Freya exchange a glance of tacit agreement. 

'I think we do.'

##

* Philomena Hopkirk had never been ill in her entire life, except from one flue that kept her in bed for an entire week in 1964 – though it was advised not to mention it in front of her. For a few years now she also had a small pain in her right knee, but actually for a lady of her age, that was quite nothing – it is likewise recommended not to tell her that, obviously.

** You probably remember Freya’s parents left her to go live a retreat life in Tibet. Well, that’s definitely not the worst thing they’ve done. They care for her, in their own way, they just weren’t that good in parenting. Once, they left for vacation in Cornwall, vaguely aware of having forgotten something – it took them two days to realise that the ‘something’ was actually Freya. She was eight. And let’s not start on how many times they forgot to go fetch her at school when she was little… But they send a card every year for her birthday – you see, they care.


	5. Chapter 4

When Freya stepped off her car, she noticed the gloomy figure waiting for her near her residence entrance. She sighed. Her day had been so good so far, of course it had to get a bit spoiled somehow.

‘Freya,’ Hastur greeted her, his voice trailing and dawdling unpleasantly. 

‘Duke Hastur,’ Freya replied, trying to sound neutral and detached. ‘How can I help ?’

‘How is it going ?’

‘Good. All’s still good.’ 

‘I was wondering, does Crowley know you know he’s, let’s say, an occult entity ?’

Freya stared at the Duke of Hell suspicisouly, wondering what this was about. He had never mentionned anything like that before, just asking about what Crowley would say or do. 

‘He doesn’t, does he ?’ Hastur asked slowly. 

‘No, he doesn’t,’ Freya answered just as slowly. Hastur snorted. 

‘Well, make him say it, then. Make him confess his true nature to you.’

‘Why ?’ Freya asked with defiance.

‘Because I’m ordering you to.’

Hastur gave Freya the nastiest, creepiest smile she had ever seen, making her shudder. Then he walked past her, as silent as a shaddow. He turned around to face her again.  
‘By the way, how’s Adam Young ?’

‘What ?’ Freya exclaimed. Her heart was throbbing. How did he know ? Was he actually watching her all the time ? Hastur smiled again – well, if you could call it a smile.  
‘Do you think I chose you by accident ?’ he asked. ‘I know you have family in Lower Tadfield. Your aunt is a very tempting soul to corrupt.’

‘You foul…’ Freya started, pointing a menacing finger to Hastur’s face. The demon cackled. 

‘Don’t be silly, Freya. And keep an eye on Adam Young for me from now on.’ 

Freya, internally railing and panicking, open her mouth to say something, but found herself speechless. She watched in unspoken disgust and horror as the Duke of Hell sort of melted into the muddy ground, his evil laugh following him. 

She ran to her flat. In her distress, she didn’t even greeted Neville and Armageddon. Neither the cactus or the fish were used to that, so they wondered what was going on. More than ever, Neville wished cacti could actually speak.

Freya knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. So, very reasonably, she went to her kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.

#

They were in the Bentley. They were heading to Aziraphale’s favourite sushi restaurant. Freya was on the backseat, absent-mindly watching through the window. She was barely aware of Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s bickering – something about Crowley nearly killing a pedestrian or something. She glanced at them. The memory of Hastur’s face briefly appeared in her mind. She shook it off.

‘Why don’t you ever take your sunglasses off ?’ Freya asked out of the blue.

‘Sorry, what did you say ?’ Aziraphale asked back. He was in the middle of another rebuke about Crowley’s driving style and Freya’s interruption had disturbed him. 

‘I just asked Crowley why he never takes his sunglasses off,’ Freya repeated, trying to sound as nonchalant as she could. 

‘Very sensitive retina,’ Crowley explained.

‘It’s night time,’ Freya said.

‘Well… Streets lights. Bothering me. Very, very sensitive retina.’ 

For a moment none of them spoke. Then Aziraphale screamed something about not going through the red light, but too late. Someone honked, but the Bentley was already gone.

‘What color are your eyes ?’ Freya asked after a while. 

‘What is this all about my eyes now ?’ Crowley asked, sounding annoyed. 

‘Just being curious,’ Freya mumbled. 

‘They’re brown,’ he said. 

Crowley parked angrily, provoking another reaction from Aziraphale who complained about the pavement not being a car park, but Crowley was already out of the car. Freya swallowed. She could feel she had upset Crowley, and that was upsetting her. 

She decided not to mention Crowley’s eyes again. She also decided to keep Hastur out of her mind for good. She was determined to enjoy her night out with her friends. 

Crowley and Aziraphale has become increasingly important to her, she had recently realised. She cared for them so much. No matter what Hastur and Gabriel had in mind, no matter what they had planned about her, she knew now that she couldn’t do it, not anymore. She was bound to the Archangel and the Duke of Hell by contract, of course, she knew that. But she was bound to Aziraphale and Crowley too, now. 

A bound of a very different kind.

#

Freya was doing her usual jogging in the park near her home. She was doing it somehow more angrily, more desperately than usual. On the night before, while she was going back from work while listening to music, Hastur had suddenly started to speak to her through her headphones - a very unpleasant feeling, it was almost like having him talking directly from inside her head. He had asked her if she had managed to do what she has been ordered to. For the first time, she had lied to him.  
She had already volontarily left some informations out. That wasn’t really lying. And it wasn’t what appeared like important things to say. She had been trying to stay quite vague and general regarding her reports for quite a while now.

But this time she had deliberately lied. She had told him that Crowley had confessed being a demon to her. Hastur had sounded rather satiisfied, which had make her feek quite uncomfortable. She was happy he hadn't been physically here when she had said that - she wasn't sure she would have dares lie to his face. Hastur could be so scary... She wondered how long it would take to him to realise she had deceived him. She wondered what would be the consequences.

‘Good morning, Freya,’ 

‘Shit, Gabriel !’ she exclaimed, instantly stopping, feeling like her heart had just jumped out of her chest through her mouth and gone back inside again. ‘You seriously have to stop doing that, it’s creepy, and – and – and rude and – you scare the shit out of me, _all the time_ !’ 

Gabriel stared at her in disbelief and Freya suddenly felt embarrassed by her outburst. She mumbled apologies. ‘It _is_ scary, though.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Gabriel said quickly. ‘I didn’t realise that. Anyway, how are things going ? Still good ?’

‘Yep. Nothing special. All good.’ 

Freya found herself incapable of looking the Archangel straight in his eyes. She also suddenly felt exhausted. She didn’t want him to ask her more questions. She wanted to be left alone. 

‘Would you say your relationship with Aziraphale is somehow… evolving ?’ 

‘What do you mean ?’

‘Are the two of you getting closer ? I don’t know, does he… does he trust you ?’ 

Freya stared blankly at Gabriel. She sighed. ‘Yes, I think. Why ?’ 

‘Well, because if he does, he should have confessed things to you by now. Tell you some secrets.’ 

Freya closed her eyes. She sighed again, then took a huge breath in. ‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s not how humans’ relationships work, not necessarily. We don’t all go around telling our secrets to people just because we trust them.’ 

‘Hmm, well, I’ll have to rely on you about that, you’re the human after all. Just… Well, you know, try to make him… To make him tell you things.’

‘Alright. I’ll do that.’ Freya was trying very hard to bite the bullet and not get angry – or fall into tears. To her relief, after that, Gabriel disappeared in an almost inaudible plop.  
She didn’t felt like jogging anymore. She went home, took a cold shower, and made herself a coffee.

#

This afternoon, Freya went to meet Aziraphale and Crowley in Saint James’s Park. She was looking forward to it. Everything that could destract her from her spiralling thoughts about Hastur and Gabriel was more than welcome, and what best than a good time with her friends ?

She found them sitting on a banch. She waved at them, calling :

‘I’m here ! How are you, guys ?’ 

‘Ah, there she is,’ Crowley said. None of them got up from the banch and they ignored her question. ‘Just in time,’ Crowley resumed. ‘We were having a very interesting conversation about trust. Loyalty. How it’s important to know you can trust your friends. Do you have an opinion on the matter ?’

Freya stared at him blankly. She felt like her stomach had turned to stone and sunk deep in her belly. ‘You’re acting weird,’ she said. 

‘Oh, am I ? Are we ?’ Crowley turned to Aziraphale, who were exceptionnally quiet. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look at Freya, not really, not in her eyes. Crowley turned back to her. He grinned. Then he took his phone out of his pocket and shove it right under Freya’s nose. She froze. 

‘I… I…’ her voice trembled. She felt like crying. 

On Crowley’s screen was a picture of her with Gabriel. It had been taken this morning, she realised. She looked up to them both, staring at them pleadingly. 

‘I can explain, I…’

‘Oh, we hope you do,’ Crowley cut her short sharply. ‘I was wondering, did they come to you because you’ve met us, or is this all a big trap you’ve planned with them since the beginning ?’

Freya didn’t answer. She felt tears filling her eyes. 

‘How long ?’ Crowley asked sternly. 

‘I… I don’t know, I’m not sure, I…’ 

‘ _Why_ ?’ Aziraphale asked suddenly. 

Freya felt a lump in her throat. She burst out:

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry – they came to me one night and they asked me to spy on you, I… I didn’t feel like I could say no, I… I’m so sorry, I never, I never wanted…’

Crowley suddenly jumped to a stand. He came close to her and hissed to her face :

‘So they made you come to us, they asked you to spy on us. And you did. You just…’ He stopped, anger preventing him from pursuing for a while. When he spoke again, his voice was seething, ‘I can’t believe you lied to us. I thought we were friends !’ 

‘I couldn’t say no,’ Freya sobbed, ‘I never wanted – I – I’m so sorry, but they – they scare me, I…’

‘You lied to us, you betrayed us, you used us !’ Crowley seethed. 

A railing hissing escaped his mouth, and for one moment Freya felt scared of him. He had never looked more snake-like. He was so close to her she could see his eyes firing lightnings through his glasses. His eyes – eyes that she had been so willing to see, not because Hastur had asked her to make him confess to her he was a demon, but just because she wanted to be part of his intimacy more, because she wanted him to trust her enough to do so, eyes that she had imagined kind and beautiful – his eyes was terrifying now.  
Crowley suddenly walked away from her. 

‘Come, angel. We’re done here.’ 

Aziraphale stood, but didn’t immediately follow his friend, who was already walking away. He glanced at Freya sadly. 

‘I am so disappointed,’ he let out in a breath. 

Then he turned and hurried to catch up with Crowley. 

‘No, please !’ Freya called, warm tears falling down her cheeks. ‘Come back ! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please ! Come back !’

But they didn’t. They didn’t even turn to look back at her. 

They were gone. 

 

When she had been able to move again, Freya had run to her car, jumped inside and started it, driving away from London at high speed. She was always careful when driving, always so respectful of the Code and everything – but not this time. For the first time in her entire life, she drove faster than the speed limit, not minding anything around.  
She couldn’t care less. 

She drove and drove and drove, with one single obsessive idea in her mind : get as far as she could – and if she killed herself in the process, well, it wouldn’t matter at all.  
She was doomed anyway. 

Doomed and alone. 

She was driving, she realised, towards Tadfield. When she passed through the village, it was night time already. She kept driving. 

She drove and drove. She drove until, suddenly, annoyingly, her car stopped. She had run out of petrol. 

‘Shit. _Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit_. Bloody, fucking hell !’

She punched the wheel of the car repeatedly, cursing and swearing and crying. She punched until her hands hurt. Then she collapsed on it, hitting her forehead hard on it, and just stayed there and cried. 

‘Fucking hell,’ she sobbed. 

‘Mind your tongue, young girl,’ a voice trailed behind her. 

Startled, she raised her head quickly. Through her tears, she saw Hastur’s reflection in the rear-view mirror. Next to her, Gabriel was sitting quietly. 

‘You,’ she whispered, wiping her tears. ‘You two… I knew it. I knew you were working together.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t put it that way,’ Gabriel protested. 

‘You’ve betrayed us, Freya,’ said Hastur threateningly. ‘You lied to us.’ 

Freya thought she had heard that enough today. She sniffed, wiping away her last tears. 

‘I guess I have,’ she said. ‘What are you going to do about it ?’

She realised she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t care what they would do to her. What she cared about was Crowley and Aziraphale walking away from her, hating her. She realised that she had to make it right to them, somehow. She laughed. 

‘I don’t care,’ she said, aware that she sounded slightly insane. ‘I don’t bloody care what you’ll do to me. But leave Crowley and Aziraphale alone. Take me, do whatever you want to me, and leave them be.’ 

‘We don’t want that, Freya,’ Gabriel said. ‘We don’t want to hurt you.’

‘Not yet,’ Hastur intervened threateningly. Gabriel ignored him.

‘But I’m afraid we won’t leave Crowley and Aziraphale alone. Actually, it’s quite the opposite.’

‘And you’ll help us with it,’ Hastur said, a wicked smile spreading on his face.

‘I won’t,’ Freya said, her voice trembling.

‘Oh yes, you will. Wether you like it or not. You will.’


	6. Chapter 5

Aziraphale was pacing in his back shop. Crowley was talking to him but the angel had no idea what about. His mind was busy with something else.

‘Are you listening to me ?’ Crowley asked suddenly.

‘What ? Yes, of course I’m listening to you,’ Aziraphale replied. And then, ‘no, actually I’m not. Crowley, I’m worried.’

‘What about ?’

‘Freya.’

Silence fell. Aziraphale waited for Crowley to say something but as the demon remained stubbornly quiet, he resumed :

‘I was thinking, you know, maybe… Well, you know _them_ ,’ he gave Crowley an insistent look. ‘She might be in big trouble right now.’ 

Crowley didn’t say anything. It looked like he didn’t care, maybe even didn’t hear what Aziraphale had just said, but he was actually seriously considering the question.

‘Come on, say something !’ Aziraphale snarled, getting impatient. 

‘Yeah. You’re probably right.’

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale said in relief. Then he tensed again. ‘Do you mean it ?’

‘Yeah, I mean, they’re not… They’re dangerous.’

‘Yes, exactly,’ said Aziraphale. ‘That’s what I was thinking. They’re dangerous. Maybe… Maybe we’ve been too harsh on her.’

‘Hmmm.’ 

Crowley was staring at a point somewhere behind Aziraphale, lost in his thoughts and irritatingly quiet, according to Aziraphale at least. The angel was getting more and more nervous. 

‘Crowley, we have to do something,’ he said.

Crowley stood up and went to the door. Aziraphale called him impatiently, wondering why he was acting so odd. Crowley hissed :

‘Shut up, angel, and get in the car.’

#

‘Where are you taking me ?’ Freya asked.

They had spent the night in her car, Gabriel, Hastur and her. At dawn, they had asked her to get out. They were now walking in a field, getting further and further away from the car – from everything. Freya stopped. 

‘I won’t go any further without you telling me your plan,’ she said. 

‘Oh, you will,’ Hastur said. ‘We have means to make you do whatever we want you to.’ 

‘Hastur, please,’ Gabriel intervened, ‘there’s no need for this, not yet. Freya, please, just follow us.’

‘No,’ Freya replied firmly. 

Hastur rose his hand but Gabriel asked him to stopped with a hand gesture. 

‘Freya,’ he said, ‘don’t be silly, and just come with us. Everything is going to be fine.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ she said defiantly. 

Gabriel looked annoyed. He pinched his lips, then said, ‘I’m sorry, but I have to,’ and he clicked his fingers. 

Freya found herself unable to resist the sudden urge of her legs to keep going. ‘What have you done to me ?’ she exclaimed. 

Gabriel didn’t answered, nor did Hastur. She followed them, unable to do otherwise.

#

‘Isn’t it Freya’s car ?’ Pepper asked.

The day was incredibly warm for an autumn day, and the Them had been riding further than usual from the village. *

‘Yes, looks like it,’ Adam said.

‘Strange,’ Brian said.

‘Why would anyone leave their car like that in the middle of the road ?’ asked Wensleydale. 

Adam get down from his bike and went to look inside the car. Empty. He tried to open a door and found out the car wasn’t locked. 

‘Strange,’ Brian repeated. 

‘I think we should go back to the village,’ Adam said. ‘raise the alarm. Something’s not right.’

The others nodded approvingly. Adam got back on his bike, and they all rode quickly back to Tadfield.

#

‘Crowley, you’re going too fast !’

‘We’re not exactly going for a picnic, Aziraphale !’ the demon replied, irritated. 

‘How could you be so sure she’ll be there, anyway ?’ Aziraphale asked, his eyes deliberately closed. That was the only way he had to deal with the excessive speed of the car.

‘I’m not,’ Crowley said. ‘I’m just hoping we’ll find her there.’ 

Crowley was driving to Oxforshire, and he was driving extremely fast – even for him. He knew Freya loved Oxfordshire, so when they had found her flat empty and her car gone, his first thought had been she had probably gone to find shelter in one of her favourite places. Now, he wasn’t so sure. 

They were now close to Tadfield, Crowley recongnised the area. Always Tadfield. Why was it always Tadfield ?

Suddenly Crowley pull up short. They had just passed two people on bikes. Crowley got out of the car, ignoring Aziraphale impatient questions. 

‘Hello, pardon me,’ Crowley called the two bikers. They turned to him, and Crowley recognised them instantly. ‘Oh, book girl, hey ! Long time no see !’

Anathema and Newt glanced at each other. Aziraphale got off the car and waved at them politely. Anathema and Newt rode to the Bentley. 

‘Hello,’ Crowley said. ‘Excuse me, I’m actually in quite a hurry. We’re looking for a friend of ours, er, she’s a girl and she’s ginger.’ 

‘She has a rather big nose,’ Aziraphale said. ‘A pretty one, though,’ he added hurriedly. 

‘Freya ?’ Anathema asked. 

‘Yes !’ Crowley exclaimed. 

‘You know her ?’ Aziraphale asked, surprised. 

‘Have you seen her ?’ Crowley asked simultaneously. 

Newt and Anathema stared at them, bewildered. Then Newt said slowly, ‘No, we haven’t. Is something wrong ?’ 

‘Er, well,’ Aziraphale said.

‘No, everything’s fine,’ Crowley cut him short, ‘thank you, you’ve been absolutely useless. Angel, get back in the car, now.’

Crowley started the car without letting the time for Aziraphale to close his door. As they drove away, Anathema shouted :

‘And my name is ANATHEMA !’

Then Newt and her looked at each other again. For a while they said nothing. Then, Anathema said : 

‘Something’s wrong. Get Dick Turpin.’

#

Gabriel and Hastur had taken Freya to an open field with just an apple tree in the middle. They had stopped near the tree.

‘So that’s your plan,’ Freya said sarcastically. ‘Dragging me in the middle of nowhere near an apple tree and, what ? Wait for the flood ?’ 

‘Not the flood,’ Hastur said, ‘your friends.’

Freya was taken aback. So, she was a bait ? She burst into a laugh. 

‘Friends ? Which friends ?’ she asked. ‘I have no friends. Thanks to you, the only ones I had hate me now.’ 

‘Oh, I don’t think they do,’ Gabriel said with one of his wide, highly irritating smile. Freya looked at him challengingly. 

‘So, that’s it ?’ she said. ‘You brought me here to make them come and save me ? That’s ridiculous. It won’t work. I told you, they’re cross with me, like, a lot. And they’re not that stupid.’ 

‘Well, you’re probably right, they’re not stupid.’ Gabriel said. ‘They’ve demonstrated some… cunning, through the years. But it will work. They may be cross with you, but when they’ll realise you’re in danger, they’ll run to you.’

‘You make them stupid,’ Hastur added.

Freya didn’t say anything. She hoped they were wrong, she prayed for them to be wrong. She asked :

‘Was that your plan since the beggining ?’

‘No, it wasn’t,’ Gabriel said earnestly. ‘We actually didn’t expect you to fall for them like that. Although, I must say this is actually really great. Maybe we should thank you.’

‘Oh, don’t bother,’ Freya said sarcastically. 

She felt so bad, so stupid. All of this was her fault. 

‘There’s nothing I could do or say that would make you change your mind, isn’t it ?’ 

‘I’m afraid not,’ Gabriel said. 

‘So maybe you should just shut up, now,’ Hastur added. 

Freya glared at them. She swallowed back her anger, her frustration, her shame. Teeth greeted, fists clenched, she prayed to whoever would listen for Aziraphale and Crowley not to be stupid enough to fall into that trap.

#

‘WATCH OUT !’

Crowley slam on the brakes at Aziraphale’s shout. At less than a few inches of the front of the Bentley were four children who had just abruptly stopped their bikes. Four children that the angel and the demon knew well. 

‘Adam ?’ Crowley said. 

‘For Heaven’s sake, Crowley, you almost killed them !’ Aziraphale cursed. 

But Crowley was already out of the car, telling the children :

‘What are you doing here ? You were in the middle of the road !’

‘And you were driving way too fast,’ Adam answered back.

‘He’s right,’ Aziraphale mumbled in the car. 

Crowley ignored it. He asked the children what they were doing so far from the village, and then told them Aziraphale and him were actually quite in a hurry.

‘Well, we are too,’ said Pepper. ‘We’ve found a friend’s car down the road and…’

‘A car ? What car ? What friend ?’ Crowley asked hurriedly. 

‘Freya’s car,’ said Adam. 

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale through the windscreen. The angel’s mouth was forming an almost perfect O. 

‘Get in the car,’ Crowley told the children. 

‘You can’t take them with us,’ Aziraphale objected, ‘it might be dangerous !’

But the four children were already piling up altogether on the back seat. Adam said matter-of-factly :

‘I think the last time we’ve met I handled a pretty dangerous situation all by myself.’

‘Almost all by yourself,’ Aziraphale corrected.

‘Shut up, angel,’ Crowley said, starting the car again. ‘Adam, take me to Freya’s car.’

#

‘See ? They’re not coming.’

Freya was standing with her arms crossed on her chest and looking triomphantly at Gabriel and Hastur. None of them seemed worried, though.  
‘Patience, Freya,’ Gabriel said. ‘They will.’ 

‘But what if they don’t come ?’ she asked. ‘And how are they suppsosed to know we’re here, anyway ?’ 

Gabriel and Hastur exchanged a glance. 

‘They’ll know,’ Hastur said with a very bleak, scary voice. 

‘I still don’t understand what this is all about,’ Freya said after a while. ‘I mean, what have they done to you ? Why can’t you juste leave them be ? You have me, and…’

‘Oh, this isn’t about you, Freya,’ Gabriel cut her short. ‘This has never been about you. You legitimately should worry, though, of course. I mean, you’ve broken our deal, after all. 

You can’t except me to respect it either, now. If you know what I mean.’ 

‘She’ll know soon enough,’ Hastur added, always bleaker and scarier. ‘She won’t like it.’ 

Freya swallowed hard. She remembered Gabriel has promised her what he had called a good place in Heaven. This was probably out of the question now, and Hastur will do whatever he wants to her. He had told her so many times that she belonged to him, now. 

‘Shouldn’t they be here, already ?’ Gabriel asked. 

‘Patience,’ Hastur replied. ‘They’re coming.’

#

‘Why have you stopped the car now ?’ Aziraphale asked, annoyed.

‘I don’t know, I just… I think I know where they are,’ Crowley mumbled.

‘What ?’ 

‘The car is just after that turn,’ Adam said. 

‘I know,’ Crowley repeated, sombre. 

He started the car again. He hated that feeling, and he hadn’t felt it in quite a while now. They used to do that all the time, down there. Putting informations, orders, in his head, just like that. That is exactly what had just happened now, and it was the first time in a very long time and Crowley wasn’t happy with that at all. It made him feel exposed, irritated, and scared. 

He parked the car just behind Freya’s one and got out. 

‘Follow me,’ he called, stepping inside a field. 

They did, all quiet. Crowley’s sudden gloomy temper had rubbed off on them all.

#

‘They’re coming,’ Hastur announced, grinning.

‘Ah, finally,’ Gabriel exclaimed, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction. 

Freya looked around her, heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t see anything. Though, after a few minutes, she saw a group of people coming to them. Her heart skipped a beat. 

‘Here they are,’ Gabriel said triumphantly. 

‘They’re not alone,’ Hastur noted. 

Freya watched as the group was coming to them. Her heart was beating fast. When she was sure it was Aziraphale and Crowley, and when she recognised the Them, she whispered :

‘No…’ 

She glanced at Hastur and Gabriel. They weren’t looking at her. She took her chance, and ran. 

‘Where do you think you’re going ?’ Hastur asked, raising his hand. 

Freya immediately stopped, unable to move, no matter how hard she tried. The little group was almost there now. She cried out :

‘Go away ! It’s a trap !’

Hastur rose his hand again, and Freya’s mouth closed. She felt like her lips were glued together, and her tongue were glued to her palate. 

‘Let her go,’ Crowley said when they were close enough. ‘We’re here. Let her go.’ 

Freya felt tears fill her eyes. It couldn’t end like that. They couldn’t just give themselves up to save her, not after what she had done to them. 

‘Release her,’ Crowley hissed. 

‘We will,’ Gabriel said. 

‘As soon as you two accept to surrender to us,’ Hastur added. 

‘So we can… Let’s say, put an end to an old business,’ Gabriel concluded with a false smile. 

Silence fell. Aziraphale and Crowley glanced at each other. Freya wanted to speak, to tell them to run away and leave her behind, she didn’t matter, she wouldn’t even be missed by anyone… But she couldn’t speak. She let out a cry through her magically closed lips. They all looked at her. 

‘What have you done to her ?’ Aziraphale asked, horrified.

‘Oh, nothing much,’ Gabriel replied.

‘Yet,’ Hastur said. ‘Though we could, if you’d ever need to be convinced to follow us.’ 

‘You better not touch her,’ Crowley said threateningly. 

Hastur laughed. Gabriel smiled with satisfaction. Freya screamed again, crying. 

And then Adam spoke. 

‘They can’t hurt her,’ he said. ‘They can’t hurt any of us.’ 

They all turned to him. He was standing with the rest of the Them behind him, all looking like a little army – or little squad of superheroes. Though Adam’s face was very serious. Gabriel was the first to speak again :

‘Adam Young. I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon. Now, you’ve caused enough troubled last time, so…’

‘I didn’t cause any trouble,’ Adam interrupted. ‘I prevent you from causing some, more like.’ 

Gabriel grimaced, visibly offended and irritated. ‘How dare you…’ he started to say, but Adam interrupted him again :

‘Freya, you can speak,’ Adam told her. ‘You can move.’ 

Freya looked at him. ‘I can’t…’ when she realised she had said that aloud, she stopped with shock. 

‘Trust me,’ Adam said. ‘I say you can, so you can.’ 

At that moment Freya realised she actually could. She could talk, and move, as if Hastur had never done anything to her. She ran, passing by the Archangel and the Duke of Hell who stared with amazement, and she joined Aziraphale and Crowley. The angel caught her in his arms, and Crowley stepped forward to stand between his friends and Gabriel and Hastur. 

‘That’s impossible,’ Hastur muttered, shocked. ‘How… How…’ 

‘It looks like the boy is right,’ Crowley mocked, ‘you can’t hurt us.’

‘But that is not possible !’ Hastur exclaimed, railing. 

Gabriel was too stunned to speak. For a while they all stared into each others eyes. That’s when voices were heard behind them. They all turn to see Anathema and Newt running towards them. 

‘Who’s that now ?’ Hastur asked. 

‘Old friends,’ Crowley explained. 

‘What’s going on ?’ Anathema lashed out when she arrived, out of breath. ‘You again !’ she said at Gabriel. ‘And who are you ?’ she asked Hastur.

‘Ahem,’ Aziraphale intervened. ‘They’re sort of our… ex-bosses. I guess we could call them that.’ 

‘And what do they want ?’ Newt asked.

‘SHUT UP !’ Hastur yelled. ‘Everyone just SHUT UP !’

The situation was clearly getting out of control for Gabriel and Hastur, and the Duke of Hell wasn’t happy about it at all, and didn’t know how to deal with his increasing frustration, except by yelling.

‘I – I – I don’t know who the Hell you all are, but – but – but, you – you –’

‘Try to take a breath and calm down a little,’ Crowley suggested. 

Hastur glared at him with the most murderous eyes Feya had ever seen. Then he rose his hand towards Crowley, the way he had done before to froze Freya and shut her up.  
‘No !’ Freya exclaimed, freeing herself from Aziraphale’s hold and jumping in front of Crowley protectively.

But nothing happened. 

Hastur stared at his hand blankly. He tried again, but once more nothing happened. 

‘What’s happening ?’ he exclaimed, furious, though sounding quite scared. 

‘You don’t understand, do you ?’ said Adam, the corner of his lips starting to form a smile. ‘You can’t touch us. We have something stronger than you. We’re all friends here, we love each other. None of us will ever allow any of you to hurt a single one of us. There’s nothing you can do about that. Now, go away,’ he added, somehow threateningly. ‘Leave me and my friends alone.’ 

Hastur let out a frustrated cry. He waved his hand again and again in the direction of Freya, Crowley, the children, desperately trying to have a reaction, but nothing was happening. It was like he had no power at all anymore. Adam was smiling. 

‘You – you – you –’ Hastur stuttered. Then he cried out, a cry of utter frustration and wrath, and he dissolved into the ground, leaving Gabriel alone. 

The Archangel stared where his occasional associate had stood, blinking. Then he looked up, and his expression was nothing good. He pointed a threatening finger in the direction of Aziraphale, then turned it to Adam, looking as if he was about to tell him off or something, but said nothing. Then he turned to Aziraphale again, and finally pointed his finger straight to Freya’s face and said :

‘This is not over.’ 

And he disappeared. 

For a while nobody talked. Freya slowly turned to Aziraphale and Crowley. She avoided looking at them in their eyes. 

‘Are they gone ?’ Newt asked finally. 

‘Yes,’ Adam said.

‘I’m not sure I understand what just happened,’ Newt resumed. 

‘Oh, nothing much really,’ Adam explained. ‘They were just trying to make some fuss again, messing with people’s heads and kidnapping people. But it’s ok now. I think they’ll leave you alone for now,’ he added, addressing to Freya, Crowley and Aziraphale. 

‘Erm, fine,’ Anathema said. ‘I think we can all get back to the cars, now.’ 

They all agreed, and the children started walking away. Newt followed. Anathema looked at the other three and said : 

‘I think you three should have a little talk. We’ll manage with the children.’ 

‘Thank you,’ Aziraphale said. 

She nodded and left them. The three of them stood in an odd triangle, an embarrassing silence falling between them. Freya cleared her throat again. 

‘My car ran out of petrol,’ she said. 

‘That’s not really a problem,’ Crowley said. ‘I never put petrol in mine, not even once.’ 

Freya laughed a bit. Finally, she found the strength to look up at them. She felt she was about to cry again. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I never meant it to happen, I…’

‘It’s alright, my dear,’ Aziraphale said softly. 

‘I can’t believe you both came to rescue me.’ 

‘Oh, of course, we came,’ Crowley said with a smile, trying to sound detached. ‘We’re friends.’ 

Friends. The word sounded so sweet to Freya’s ears. Her heart fluttered like a butterfly in her chest. 

‘So, you forgive me ?’ she asked, a bit sheepishly. 

‘Of course we forgive you,’ Aziraphale exclaim, putting both his hands on her shoulders. He chuckled happily. 

‘So, what about I go have a look at that car of yours, hmm ?’ Crowley asked, smiling. 

Freya smiled back. Aziraphale was still holding her shoulders, and she came closer to hug him. 

‘You know, you’re more than friends to me,’ she said, ending the hug. ‘You’re family.’ 

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale whispered with a sweet, soft smile, eyes beaming. 

Crowley didn’t say anything, and Freya could tell he was trying not to smile too much. She walked to him, got on tiptoe, putting her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance, and put a kiss on his nose. 

‘I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while,’ she confessed. 

Then, smiling, and also slightly embarrassed, she hurried through the field in the direction of the road where the cars were waiting. Aziraphale gave Crowley an amused smile.  
‘You’re blushing,’ he teased.

‘No, I’m not,’ Crowley answered sharply, though being perfectly aware of the hot burning of his cheekbones. 

They hurried after Freya and got back to the cars.

##

*Adam had nothing to do whatsoever with that exceptionally good weather (you are free not to believe it to be true, though.) 


	7. Epilogue : Or How This Story Ends

‘Freya dear, those crepes were _scrumptious_ ,’ Aziraphale exclaimed, sucking his fingers clean. 

The sea breeze felt nice on their skins under the burning summer sun. They were at the beach, altogether. Freya, Crowley and Aziraphale, Anathema and Newt, the Them who were currently playing in the waves, even Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell, who had joined them all for the occasion. Or rather, they all had joined them in their little bungalow near the sea, before going altogether to the beach. Shadwell was dozing on a deckchair, and Madame Tracy was playing with the kids. 

‘That’s probably due to my French ancestry,’ Freya replied to Aziraphale. 

Freya had made crepes, because she knew how much Aziraphale loved them. She had also made waffles and a huge chocolate cake. Madame Tracy had made a delicious limonade, and they were all having the best of time – and the best of snacks. 

Months had paths since what they all called The Incident. Life had been nice after that, and neither of them had heard about Up and Below again. Everyone’s life had gone back to normal. Freya had introduced Crowley and Aziraphale to aunt Philomena a few weeks earlier, which has been the most terrifying and funniest encounter you could imagine. 

Adam came to have some limonade, Wensleydale on his heels. Freya said :

‘Oh, Adam, I just finished to read your book. It’s brilliant !’

Adam gave her a huge, happy smile. ‘I knew you’d like it !’ he exclaimed enthusiastically. ‘What part did you prefer ?’ 

‘Hmmm, the bit with the dinosaurs fighting the cowboys in the spaceship was obviously epic. But I think my favourite part was when the pirate detective tamed and adopted the baby dragon.’ 

‘Oh yes, that’s sweet,’ Adam said. 

Then Pepper called him and Wensleydale, complaining about how long they took to just have a drink, so they both left. 

‘You should give it a try,’ Freya told Anathema, throwing Adam’s book copy to her. She caught it skillfully and looked at the cover. 

‘I probably should,’ she said. ‘But before, I think I’ll go enjoy the sea a little. Do you come ?’

‘No, thanks, not my scene,’ Crowley mumbled. 

‘Maybe later,’ you say while Aziraphale was slowly shaking his head in denial. 

‘I do,’ said Newt. 

They both got up and ran to the sea, where Madame Tracy and the children welcomed them with laughter – and splashing water at them. Freya laughed when she heard Newt skriek at the splash of cold water on his bare skin. 

Shadwell started snoring, proving he had fallen asleep for good. Freya delicately put his hat down on his face to prevent him to take to much sun. 

‘How attentionate,’ Crowley teased. 

She punched him friendly on his shoulder, coming back to sit on her towel, in between the two of them. Crowley was half lying on his own towel, leaning on his arms to stay a bit straight, his face turned to the sun like a sunflower. His sunglasses had never been more needed. Aziraphale was sitting on the other side of Freya, starting to doze off too from too much food. He was wearing a lovely straw hat – that Freya and Crowley hadn’t stop making fun of all the way to the beach – but his nose and cheeks were started to redden from the sun anyway. Freya smiled, happier than ever. 

Then her smile vanished as a disturbing thought crossed her mind. A thought she had tried to let go but which were always coming back. 

‘What is it, my dear ?’ 

Freya turned to Aziraphale. She couldn’t pretend in front of him, he could read her so well. And she had sworn herself never to lie to neither of them again. 

‘I was just… Well, it’s silly.’ 

‘Tell me.’ 

Crowley had turned his focus on them, listening. Freya cleared her throat, looking for words.

‘It’s just… Well, I was wondering about… About Gabriel and Hastur. I mean, I know they can’t hurt us now, whatever Adam did, they just can’t reach us. But what happens when… when I die ?’ 

An embarrassed silence fell. Aziraphale fidgetted awkwardly. Crowley’s lips turned a bit down. 

‘Don’t bother with that now,’ he said. ‘That’s not gonna happen soon.’ 

‘Well, you can’t be sure about that,’ Freya said softly, perfectly aware of increasing the awkwardness of the moment and sounding almost apologetic. 

‘Don’t say that,’ Aziraphale protested. 

‘Gabriel made it pretty clear that he won’t prevent Hell to claim me. And Hastur loved telling me over and over how he owned me.’

‘We’ll find something,’ Aziraphale said firmly. ‘Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart. We won’t let them hurt you. Never.’

‘And it’s possible Adam’s protection keeps working after… you know,’ Crowley added. ‘I mean, we don’t exactly know what he did, and… what he can do…’

‘We’ll find a way,’ Aziraphale repeated, putting a comforting hand on Freya’s shoulder. She smiled, putting her own hand on his.

‘I think I’ll join the others,’ she said after a while, ‘you sure you don’t want to come ?’

‘Yep, perfectly sure,’ Crowley said. 

‘No, thank you,’ Aziraphale refused politely. 

Freya stood up. She took a few steps in direction of the sea, then went back. She bent over to kiss Aziraphale on his nose, then did the same with Crowley. 

And she ran away.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley. He started to say, teasing :

‘You’re…’

Crowley cut him short :

‘You’re blushing too.’

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! 
> 
> Thank you so so much for reading! 
> 
> Freya's surname is just a mix of different aristocratic French names, so yes I completely made it up. The Nick Cave's book is my current read, that's why I picked this one. And I _had_ to make a reference to Terry Pratchett… What else? Idk. Ask me anything if Something needs to be clarified, please tell me your thoughts, I really hope you liked it! 
> 
> This hasn't been proofread by someone else so if you spot grammar mistakes and so on, you're very welcome to tell me and I'll correct them. 
> 
> Take care and thank you again for reading <3


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